I'll always be there for you
by Pockethobbit
Summary: Johnlock. Teenlock. Sherlock and John are best friends at highschool. One-Shot. Both Angst and Fluff. Rated T for violence Picture isn't mine.


_AN: This is a Teenlock One-Shot which was wished by Christiana Dean at a Facebook-fanpage ( /weknowthatyouare). Hope you like it! Enjoy reading :)_  
_~ TheNameIsAllieHolmes_

I'll always be there for you

Sherlock looked up from his book as someone tossed a little paper through the classroom. No, not someone, his best friend John. He smiled at him and opened it. _Are you coming around after school?_, was scribbled on it. The dark-curled boy looked up again. He locked eyes with John, nodded and gave him a brief grin. Then he continued reading the paragraph about the French revolution. _How tedious_, he thought. He was anxious for the end of the history class, his last class of the day.

When the bell _finally_ rang John strolled over to him, grinning.  
"How many mistakes has he made today?", he asked Sherlock. He closed his book and rolled his eyes.  
"I lost count after 53. Honestly, has he studied history at all?!" John chuckled. Sherlock complained after every lesson how incompetent the correspondent teacher was. If the two boys sat next to each other, he was always mumbling corrections to John. That was why most teachers had changed the seating arrangements, so as Mr. Flemming, their history teacher.  
John and Sherlock walked together out of the classroom, heading for the school entrance. They talked about the exam they had this Friday. "Could you help me a bit with chemistry?", John asked, as they had nearly reached the exit. When Sherlock nodded in agreement, a voice called after them.  
"Are you serious? You're still wasting your time with that freak? You've lost it completely, haven't you?"  
It was Sally Donovan. To make it short: John hated her with passion. She insulted Sherlock on every occasion she could get. After John got friends with the genius, she had started to tell him every time they passed her, that he was wasting his time with him and that he should look for a hobby. He turned around abruptly, glaring at her. "Yes, Sally, I'm still hanging out with _Sherlock_ instead of wasting my time with people like _you_.", he spat. He could feel Sherlock grabbing his arm. "John, she isn't worth it. Let her talk", he said, tugging slightly at him. The blond boy took a deep breath. _Relax_, he thought, _Sherlock is right_. Then he turned around and let Sherlock pull him out of the school building.  
The cool autumn breeze outside helped to calm him down.  
"How can you stay so calm, when she says things like this?", he asked Sherlock, unbelieving. The other boy just shrugged.  
"What does it help me to get offended? She won't stop anyway, I'll just lose my energy fighting her." John shook his head, but let the subject drop.  
"Any idea what we should do?", he asked instead.  
A sparkle glowed in Sherlock's eyes.  
"Let's play Cluedo!", he exclaimed, smirking.  
"Oh no, forget it, I am _never_ playing with you Cluedo ever again. _Never_. You just don't get it!"  
"Of course _I_ get it. It's obvious that the rules are wrong! It had to be the victim, there's no other solution!", he said defending himself. John and Sherlock argued the entire way to John's house over Cluedo. When they finally reached the front door, John stopped short.  
"But if it would have been Bloom, then- John? John, what's wrong?" Sherlock let his gaze wander over his best friend's frightened expression.  
"He is already home. I thought he would work till tonight", he whispered, not moving.  
"Oh."  
Sherlock thought quickly what they should do. John's dad was blaming his son for the death of his wife. She had died in a car crash as she had driven John to a clarinet-concert. Her son had miraculously survived with nothing but a big scar on his shoulder, but she hadn't got out of the car in time. Like John's sister Harriet, Mr. Watson had started to drink in his grieve, and he had looked for someone to blame for the accident. He had started to punch John, whenever John did something wrong and even if he had nothing done at all. Sherlock knew about it, and he hated Mr. Watson for it. Nobody should punch his best friend. He invited John to his house whenever he could and they normally only were at John's when his father was out. Now he had come home early, as it seemed.  
"Maybe we should go over to my house-", Sherlock started, as the front door swung open and Mr. Watson looked down at them with bleary eyes. He was already drunk.  
"John, you're late", he growled and grabbed John's collar to drag him inside. The blond boy winced and followed his dad quickly. Sherlock hurried after them.  
"Why are you late?! You should have been home for 10 minutes! Do I have to do everything myself? I told you to do the washing when you're home!", he growled at his son. John seemed to shrink under his father's gaze.  
"I'm sorry, dad", he mumbled.  
"Speak up, boy!", Mr. Watson barked. Sherlock couldn't hold it. Nobody should speak like this to John, brave, loyal John who defended him against everyone.  
"It wasn't John's fault. Our history teacher overran the class", he hissed angrily. The drunk man turned to Sherlock. He made a step forward, but Sherlock didn't back away.  
"So, did he?", Mr. Watson asked dangerously. Sherlock nodded. He couldn't speak. Maybe he wasn't as courageous as he had thought.  
"And why the fucking hell do you think, you can interject a conversation between me and my son?! Who do you think you are?", Mr. Watson shouted, getting louder with every word. And before any of the boys could do something, he punched Sherlock straight in the face. The dark curled boy stumbled back, his eyes tearing up from the pain.  
He saw how John straightened up. He took a deep breath and said calmly: "Father." Surprised by the tone of his son's voice, Mr. Watson turned back to John. But before he could say anything, the blond boy punched him in the stomach as hard as he could. Mr. Watson winced. John punched again. "You. Will. Never. Ever. Punch. Sherlock. Again.", he shouted, beating parts of his father's body with every word.  
After a moment, Mr. Watson seemed to overcome his surprise. "You-", he shrieked in fury, lost for words. He hauled off with his hand but Sherlock grabbed John's arm and dragged him out of the house like a bolt. John stumbled a few times but when they had left the front door behind, he began to run properly. Sherlock still clinging to him they ran, and ran, as far away from John's house as they could.

After what felt like hours of running, they finally came to a halt. Sherlock quickly absorbed their surroundings. They were standing at the edge of a forest, next to a big meadow. As he looked back to John, his best friend slumped down on the ground. Tears began to stream down his face. Sherlock sat next to him and pulled John into a hug. He stroke his back as John sobbed against his shoulders. He nestled his nose into his blond hair, mumbling comforting words. They sat like this untill the sun began to sink. Finally, John sat up. "Thanks, Sherlock", he mumbled, red-eyed.  
"You have to go to the police, John. I know it's difficult because he is your father, but you have to. You can't let him punch you all the time. You'll break", he said, reached out and wished a tear from John's cheek. Then he let his hand fall down, suddenly aware what he was doing and blushed a bit. John took a deep breath.  
"I know. But not tonight. I can't tonight. I'll go tomorrow… Would you, maybe…?" He drifted away.  
"Of course I'll come with you", Sherlock said and smiled a bit, as he gave John his _obvious_-look. John smiled too. He lay down on the grass, Sherlock doing the same next to him. They looked up at the stars which had come visible at the dark sky. A warm breeze swished over them. After a little while of silence, Sherlock sighed contently. He watched the stars blink and sparkle.  
"Beautiful, isn't it?", he whispered to John. But John wasn't looking at the sky anymore. He had turned at his side, so that he faced Sherlock. "Yes", he whispered back, resting his eyes on Sherlock's face. Sherlock looked over at him.  
"John, you're not even looking up", he stated, questioningly.  
"I don't have to", John said. Sherlock blushed. He turned over to his side too, so that he was facing John.  
"John", he started, but the blond boy laid a finger on his lips. "Hush, don't ruin the moment", he whispered and came a bit closer. Sherlock could feel butterflies going mad in his stomach, as he leaned nearer to John. He gently took John's finger off his lips and intertwined their fingers.  
"You're beautiful", John breathed. Sherlock closed the gap between them and when his lips touched John's, all his thoughts stopped. Only one word raved through his mind. _John. John. John. John. John._ The kiss sparked a fire inside him and when their lips parted after a while, he could see John's eyes sparkle.  
"John, I promise you, that whatever happens, I'll be there for you", he whispered and kissed him again.


End file.
